


Mage of Void

by Zivlok



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Gen, Time Travel, as well as featuring FULL LIFE CONSEQUENCES, ignore the homestuck reference in the title and the half life 2 reference in the summary, this fic is pure hp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 03:32:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zivlok/pseuds/Zivlok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The right man in the wrong place can make all the difference in the world."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mage of Void

Wildas Haim blinked twice, lifted his hand to massage his temples, and promptly fell over.

After a couple minutes, he regained conciousness, and promptly vomited. A few minutes after that, he had regained his bearings, Vanished the mess he had made, and dusted off his cloak. The Transition always did that to him - not entirely a rare side-effect of the experience, but still one that was rather unfairly linked to the inexperienced and inept. Wildas was neither, and the top brass knew it. That was why he had been specially selected for this mission, which was not just the most dangeous mission he had ever attempted, but quite possibly the most dangerous mission attempted by any wizard in his century. Not only was he traveling back to the First Potter War, not only was this nowhere near his first time doing so, and not only was he going to be within mere feet of a previous version of himself, a couple years and a Hippogriff-load of missions back, but he was going to do so under his real name.

While no one had been tactless enough to explicitly say it out loud, it had been made abundantly clear that this was to be Wildas' last mission in this era, if not his last mission, period. Wildas hadn't balked at this - it was all part of the job, and he knew exactly what he was getting into when he signed up for the Department so many, many years ago. As he stumbled out of the closet in the small empty flat off Knockturn Alley that was always rented out but no one knew exactly to whom, Wildas winced at a small twinge in his knee. It wasn't a big deal, but it was yet another indication that he was slowly approaching the age of "Too Blasted Old For This". He stalked over to the mirror in the gloomy hallway and took out his wand. He reflected on how ironic it was that now that he was starting to get to the point that he no longer had to Transfigure his hair into the trademark wiry gray of his now-retired persona, that persona was, well, now-retired. He murmured and fussed, jabbing his face here and there with his wand, until he was satisfied with his work.

A man with cloudy gray eyes, neatly shorn blonde hair, and only a slight hint of wrinkles on his conventionally attractive, but not entirely memorable face, stepped out of a flat onto a sidestreet of Knockturn Alley. He briskly walked past crooning crones and wizened wizards hawking wares of dubious quality and even more dubious intent. He had to move quickly, both metaphorically speaking in regards to the plan, and literally so, because something about the smell of Knockturn Alley always got to him. It wasn't strong enough to be categorized as a stench, but there was definitely a smell to that place that was markedly different than that of Diagon Alley, and it was not one that Wildas Haim liked, thank you very much. Besides, while newbies to the side of the Dark Arts always thought it a clever idea to start looking for leads in the place nationally recognized for being a home of illict wizardry, Wildas knew you had to look elsewhere if you wanted real connections. Of course, anyone with any real brains knew that the Ministry of Magic was implicit in the continuining existence and allure of Knockturn Alley, favoring the devil they knew and got bribes from over the one they didn't. 

The warm spring air lifted Wildas' spirits as he stepped onto Diagon Alley and began to head for the passage to Muggle London. It was May 1997, Dumbledore was still alive, Scrimgeour was still growling about the Minister's office, and Ministry had not yet fallen. Those lowest in the pecking order of his organization (but still high enough to know of his mission's existence) knew that his mission was to make sure that the fall of the Ministry happened differently. Those at the top of the pecking order knew that his true mission was to make sure that it didn't fall at all. But only Wildas and the Council of Five (who were so far up on that pecking order that almost no one below them even knew they existed) knew that his true, _true_ mission was indeed to make sure that the Ministry fall happened differently, but in a way no one would ever expect, or be prepared for.

Wildas Haim was no longer going to change history. He was going to _make_ it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first HP fanfic that I've written in quite a while, close to half a decade at this point. It's going to be a fairly short and straightforward story, despite what the premise of time travel might have you believe. However, it's _possible_ that I will write other stories set in the same "Universe" as it were - I have a couple ideas for that. Also, there's another, unrelated Harry Potter fic that I'm working on in the pipeline. That one is intended to be much more of a sprawling epic, as well as a crossover.
> 
> Lastly, this fic was inspired by a conversation with a friend of mine, though that inspiration will not become clear until the last chapter.


End file.
